


Start Over

by bansheequeen (queenbanshee), xtremeroswellian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia, Banshee Lydia Martin, Emotional Tether(s), F/M, Hero Stiles, Lydia ships sciles broship, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott Ships It, Stiles is a killer, Stiles rescues Lydia from Eichen, Stiles still likes her, and wishing for stydia, based on 5b trailer, just like Scott ships romantic stydia, spoilers for 5b, we're just assuming here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbanshee/pseuds/bansheequeen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for the 5B trailer!</p><p>Stiles rescues Lydia from Eichen and she starts helping him put his life back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is a massive one-shot, we know. But it just kinda happened after we saw the new trailer and read some possible spoilers. We own nothing, because if we did, Stydia would be canon.

Stiles is the one who comes up with the plan. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t care if the others get hurt while they’re distracting the Dread Doctors; he does. He doesn’t want them to get hurt, but if they do get hurt, they’ll heal. Scott’s a true alpha, and Malia is a werecoyote. 

Lydia does not have super healing powers, and she is his priority right now. It took him nearly three days to figure out what happened to her and where she was, and when he had, he’d seen red. If Scott hadn’t stopped him, Theo Raeken would have been dead. He might still end up that way. 

Getting a hold of a gun when you’re a cop’s son is as easy as it is getting tickets dismissed when you’re caught doing 80 in a 55. Easier, even. He doesn’t tell the others he has it. That’s not something that Scott needs to know. It’s what’s necessary -- because this is Lydia’s life on the line, not his own. He hopes he doesn’t have to use it. He also has a pocketful of mountain ash, and another full of mistletoe.

He leaves Scott and Malia in the tunnels and makes his way into the basement of Eichen. It doesn’t bring back a lot of warm fuzzy memories. A chill goes down his spine and he barely suppresses a shudder as he creeps through the dank basement in the dark. His heart is beating quickly as he makes his way up the stairs and opens the door as quietly as he can. The hallway is dark, too. He hadn’t wanted to wait until nightfall for the rescue mission, but it’s when the place has the least amount of staff roaming around. 

He slips out of the basement and makes his way toward the steep stairs that lead to the top levels of the building. To the place where they are holding Lydia -- because even a true alpha can’t make his way into the supernatural wing of the building with his own determination. Not even to save a pack member. 

But Stiles isn’t a true alpha. And nothing is going to stop him from getting Lydia out of this place. 

He makes it up three stairs before he hears footfall behind him and feels a hand grip onto his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate -- he draws his gun and turns at the same time, pointing it right at the orderly’s head. There’s a coldness in his eyes, and his voice is hard when he speaks. “You’re going to take me to where you’re keeping Lydia Martin. And if you don’t, and if you try anything, they’re gonna be scraping your brain matter off the wall. Are we clear?” 

The orderly pulls his hand back and holds them up as he stares coldly right back at Stiles. “That’s not how things work here.” 

He releases the safety on the gun and presses it to the man’s temple. “It is now.” 

The man’s jaw clenches and he slowly, carefully, nods down the hall. “You’ll need me to let you in.”

“You have the keys you need for where you’re keeping her?” he asks, studying him intently. 

With a sigh, the man pulls the keys from his scrubs’ pocket and shows them to him, but doesn’t hold them out.

“Get moving,” Stiles orders, stepping aside to let the man walk in front of him. His patience is already wearing thin, and he thinks that maybe he should be alarmed by the fact that his hands aren’t even shaking. That this all feels perfectly natural to him. 

And since the man doesn’t have much of a choice, he does. Leading Stiles down the hall, through another gate and down a corridor of gated cells. 

He follows closely, keeping the weapon pressed against the small of the man’s back. He wants to call out Lydia’s name, he wants to find her _right now_ , but he knows that calling out will only serve to alert more staff that he’s there. He licks his lower lip and lets his gaze dart from side to side as he searches for any sign of her familiar face. 

“Where is she?” he demands, voice quiet. Too quiet. 

“Couple more down,” he answers as he keeps going until he stops in front of Lydia’s cell, glancing at Stiles before reaching to unlock her door.

“Nice and slow,” Stiles warns, taking a step back from him and waiting, trying to ignore the anxiety he feels growing inside him. He can’t see her from there -- the only window toward the top of the door. His hand grips onto the gun a little more tightly and he forces himself to take a deep breath as the lock turns and the guard opens the door. 

“Drop your keys on the floor,” he says. “Right here. And step inside but not toward her.” 

The man does as he’s told once the door is open. He slides it out of the way and makes his way inside, toward the right side of the room. Away from the bed on the left.

Stiles kneels down and picks up the keys the guard dropped and slides them into his pocket, not taking his eyes off him the entire time no matter how much he wants to. He steps into the cell, keeping his gun trained on the guard even as he ventures a glance at the unmoving figure on the bed. 

The first thing that dawns on him is that her pillow is stained -- a dark color. Red. 

Blood.   
His breath hitches momentarily and he looks at the guard again, jaw tightening. “Lydia? Can you hear me?” 

She hears him. But for a moment, the only indication that she does is that she blinks her eyes slowly. This keeps happening to her. Hearing and seeing things that aren’t there. Slowly, she turns her head toward the movement in the room and stares at Stiles. Her eyes are unfocused, her mouth is hanging open for a second before she closes it. 

“Dr. Valack?” It’s always him. He’s the only one who actually talks to her. Sometimes he’s Aiden, but now she knows it’s not real. It’s always still him. He just looks like Stiles this time.

The weak tone of her voice sends alarm through him and he glares at the guard. “Get in the other bed,” he orders. When the man does as told, Stiles only hesitates a second before slamming the butt of the gun into his temple. “Good news for you is you get to live today.” When the man groans and his eyes roll back as he passes out, Stiles shoves the gun into his pants and moves quickly to Lydia’s side. 

“Lydia, it’s me,” he whispers, lifting a hand to her cheek as he kneels down beside her. “Can you walk?” Her skin is so pale, paler than his own. Unnaturally pale. Blood loss, he thinks distantly, brushing her hair away from her face gently. 

She leans into his touch unconsciously. She doesn’t realize she’s cold, but she is. His question throws her a little and she starts to nod, but her head feels so heavy. Numb. “I don’t know,” she says quietly, her eyes on his face. Unfocused still, but she’s trying her best to look at him. She just wishes he was real.

“We might not have much time,” he admits. He hesitantly moves closer to her, as close as he can get without being on the bed with her. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He knows she is, there’s blood on the pillow, and it’s not fresh but he knows it’s hers. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. He knows how this place operates. 

“The procedure,” she whispers, lifting a hand to a spot on her head, just behind her ear, half hidden by her hair. When she pulls her hand back, she has blood on her fingertips, but she doesn’t notice.

All the air leaves his lungs and he suddenly feels like he might throw up. “Oh, Lydia,” he whispers, and his voice cracks. He knows the exact procedure. _Trepanation._ He swallows hard, trying to force himself to focus because he has to get her out of there. And then he has to get her to Melissa McCall. “Did Valack do this to you? Is he the one who did this?” 

“He amplified.” Lydia pauses and takes a deep breath. “My abilities, he amplified them.” And the fact that Stiles is asking her this is strange. He _is_ Valack. Everyone is. All the time. “Is it over?” He keeps telling her her treatment isn’t over. That he need her help to understand it. To understand _them_.

“It’s over,” he answers, gathering the light blanket from her bed and tossing it part way over his shoulder. “I’m gonna help you sit up, okay? And then I’m gonna get you out of here. Nice and slow.” In other circumstances he’d be calling 911 and asking for an ambulance, but that isn’t an option here. He carefully slides an arm beneath her torso, moving so he’s perching on the bed on his knees and gently pulling her upright, slowly. “You okay? Are you dizzy? Anything hurt other than your head?” 

She sits up easily when he pulls her up. Her body is heavy, but she doesn’t fight it, and she doesn’t really feel anything. “No.” Not dizzy, and not feeling much of anything. Not even her head hurts. If there was any pain, it’d just be distant pain that she can’t quite focus on. 

But as she turns to slide her legs off to the side of the bed, her eyes focus on something else. On the man across the room. And a frown appears on her face.

“Easy,” he whispers, keeping his arm around her for a moment longer, and then following her gaze to the unconscious guard. “It’s okay. I’m gonna lock him in. I have the keys.” He takes the blanket back off his shoulder and carefully wraps it around hers instead. He slides his left arm around her waist once more, carefully rising to his feet and holding onto her tightly in case her legs aren’t strong enough to stand. 

“Lock me in? I helped you,” the guy says as he stands up.

Lydia barely notices him as she leans heavily on Stiles. Feeling a little warmer than she had before as she presses against his side as soon as he feet are on the ground. Her body feels heavy, but her head is by far the worst. Despite all that, she _is_ standing on her own for the most part, though.

Stiles tenses immediately, quickly removing his gun again. “Yeah, and my preference is to lock you in rather than shoot you, but I’m not that picky either,” he responds. “So, your pick.” 

The man’s jaw clenches but he holds his hands up again and takes a step back, further into the room.

“Good choice,” Stiles tells him, carefully backing toward the door with Lydia beside him. They make it out of the cell and he shifts just long enough to pull the keys from his pocket, closing and locking the door quickly. “Still with me?” he asks Lydia, searching her face anxiously. 

She’s staring down the hallway until he talks to her again. When he does, she focuses on his face, and for a moment, she feels the haziness clearing up. But he’s still Stiles. “Is it really you?” 

He exhales a shaky breath before reaching up and cupping her cheek in his hand. “It’s really me.” He doesn’t think about it when he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Scott and Malia are distracting the Doctors. We gotta get out of here.” 

Lydia reaches to hold on to his arm and exhales deeply. “It was Theo,” she says quietly. “You were right about him.” And there’s so much more she needs to tell him, to warn him about. But it’s hard to pull all that information right now.

“I know,” he tells her, jaw tightening. His dad is still in the hospital because of that bastard. And he doesn’t even know the extent of torture these assholes at Eichen have put Lydia through. “We’ll stop him.” 

She sighs deeply and nods slightly. Him knowing helps. At least until she can remember everything that she had to tell him. “There’s more but-- I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s okay.” He gently brushes his thumb over her cheek. “We’ll figure it out when we get out of here and somewhere safe. All right? We’ll figure it out together, like we always do. Cause we’re a team, right?” He forces himself to smile even though his gaze darts to the hole hidden by her hair. 

Lydia smiles slightly and nods as she looks at him. It’s hard to hold on to a specific thought, it’s hard to keep focus. But she already feels a lot safer, because this does feel real. She’s fairly sure Stiles is really there. And that he’s really getting her out of this place. Somehow, she knew he would.

“Okay. Lean on me. We gotta go.” He wraps his left arm around her, leaving his right one free so that he can have the gun in his hand as they move down the hallway. In the distance, he hears a door open and close and he tenses, heart beating faster in his chest. 

She does lean on him, but she walks fairly easily. Even if a little slower than usual, she can move just fine. But she’s not alert. She’s not looking around, paying attention to sounds or movements. She’s just staring blankly ahead.

He picks up the pace a little when he hears another door open in the distance and he grits his teeth. Maybe they’d increased their security since he’d stayed there. He hears footsteps approaching the corner and he quickly raises his gun, steeling himself for the possibility that he’s actually going to have to shoot someone. 

Lydia’s posture and expression remains the same until the person approaching comes into view. The second she sees him, she pulls away from Stiles. Her movements are suddenly agile as she runs forward, kicking the man in the stomach just a second later. Before he can react, she opens her mouth and _screams_. It’s powerful, strong. And as she screams, she does a shoving motion forward that sends him flying toward the wall behind him and hits it hard.

Stiles is so shocked when she darts forward and starts kicking the guard’s ass that he nearly drops the gun in his hand. “Holy shit,” he whispers, eyes wide. He flinches a little at the screaming, but he shakes off the surprise and moves forward, looking down at the man who’s now unconscious and slumped onto the floor. “We definitely have to have a conversation when we get out of here,” he tells her breathlessly as he reaches out for her hand. 

“We should go,” she tells him as she wraps her fingers around his hand. She doesn’t look more aware, necessarily. But definitely a lot more alert. And now she’s moving much faster than before, too. She’s done this before. She knows her screaming will bring all of them running.

She’s not wrong. They’ve no sooner rounded the corner than two more guards are headed right for them, and Doctor Valack behind them, looking displeased. 

Stiles reaches out and tugs on her arm so that she stays beside him. “Stay back,” he mumbles. 

“I can help,” she tells Stiles quietly as she presses against his back, looking at him for a moment. Then she notices the gun and wraps her fingers around his shirt instead of trying to run forward. 

“Don’t come any closer,” he warns, voice loud and firm. “I _will_ shoot you.” 

But the two guards keep moving toward them. And behind the guards, Valack speaks up. “We’re on the same side, Stiles.” 

Lydia turns to look at the doctor and stills when she sees Aiden again. Her grip on Stiles’ shirt tightens and she presses closer to his back. “He’s not real,” she whispers to herself and takes a deep breath.

“I promise you we really aren’t.” He aims the gun at Valack, taking a step backwards when he spots claws on one of the guards. Actual bullets aren’t going to do any good. He reaches into his pocket and grabs a handful of the mountain ash. 

When Stiles speaks again, Lydia blinks. All of the sudden, Valack looks like himself again. For an instant, he’s back to Aiden. But it doesn’t last before he’s back to normal once more. Lydia looks down when Stiles moves and tries to understand what he’s doing. She’s pure instinct, but thinking clearly is still hard. So she waits. Because she knows Stiles. And she knows he always has a plan.

He waits until they get a couple steps closer before flinging the mountain ash at them, eyes dark and narrowed and he watches the one with claws flinch back and away, eyes flashing a bright blue. “You’ll like what I have in the other pocket even less,” he warns, aiming the gun at Valack once more. “You’re gonna get the hell out of the way and let us out of this place.” 

“You know I can’t do that, Stiles,” Valack says calmly, stepping forward so that he’s now a step closer to them than the guards. “Lydia still needs her treatment. It’s for her own good as well as ours. Or did you not see what she can do now?”

“That’s close enough.” He aims the gun directly at Valack’s chest, but at the mention of Lydia’s treatment, he grows even more tense. “You mean did I see what you did to her?” His voice is sharp. “I know what trepanation is, you piece of shit.” 

“I’m helping her, Stiles. We’re helping each other. Aren’t we, Lydia?” As he asks this, he silently slides his foot forward to break the line. 

Lydia tenses, but doesn’t respond. Because she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she doesn’t wanna be here anymore.

It’s Lydia’s tensing behind him that sends rage through him because Lydia’s never been afraid of anything or anyone like this before and he suddenly hates Valack. “We’re done with your kind of help,” he says flatly, pulling the trigger and shooting the doctor directly in the chest. 

She flinches at the loud noise. But she barely has time to process it, because all of the sudden, the two guards are shifting and charging forward. Right at Stiles. That same instant, Lydia steps out from behind him and screams again. This time, there’s anger to her scream, too. And just as the two werewolves are lifting their hands to cover their ears, she’s shoving them backwards without touching them.

And as she does that, he grabs a handful of mistletoe from his other pocket and flings it at the wolves. It won’t buy them a lot of time, but maybe just enough. He reaches out and catches her hand in his tugging her forward. “We gotta move,” he says, glancing momentarily down at Valack as he twitches on the floor, gasping for breath as blood pools around him. It makes him freeze but only for a second, because then the werewolves are growling again and it kicks him into gear. “Go,” he tells her, aiming the gun at the wolf on the left and aiming it at his chest. He fires, knowing full well it won’t stop him. 

She doesn’t even see anything. The second Stiles takes her hand, she starts to move. When he stops, just as he fires, she screams again. There’s a sharpness to it that makes her own body shake as she’s screaming. It’s powerful. She _feels_ powerful. And it’s enough to have both werewolves clutching their heads in pain. So she tugs on Stiles’ hand again and pulls him toward the gates. “Let’s go.”

He follows her without hesitation, his ears ringing from the intensity of her screaming. It’s different than before. Louder. Stronger. He feels the force of it reverberate throughout his entire being and his teeth feel like they’re rattling in his mouth as they run together out the gated hallway and down the stairs, not taking the time to stop and look behind them. 

He doesn’t lead her toward the basement and the tunnels even though that’s where Scott and Malia are. That way lies danger in the form of the Dread Doctors, and he’s not putting her in more danger. He heads straight for the front exit, ignoring the protests of the front desk person, ignoring the sirens that begin to blare overhead. 

She’s barely hearing anything at all. She’s so focused on running that just as they make their way out of the front door, she completely misses the three guards that are almost right behind them hitting the door as it shuts down due to the emergency system. She just makes her way down the front steps, her heart racing as she half expects to get caught again. 

Stiles glances over his shoulder when they make it down the steps, relieved to see no one’s chasing them. A dark smirk touches his mouth involuntarily in response but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. Sweat’s broken out on his forehead, is running down the back of his neck, and he still feels nauseated but he pushes forward until they reach the parking lot. 

He casts a glance at the car beside his rental truck -- Malia’s. They’re still inside. He bites down on his lower lip as he guides her to the passenger seat of the truck, tugging the door open. “Come on,” he murmurs. 

Lydia gets into the car without a second thought. She watches Stiles as he runs around the car to the driver’s seat. In the back of her head, she realizes this isn’t the jeep, but she doesn’t quite process the information. She just wants to make sure he gets back inside safely.

He clambers up and into the driver’s seat quickly, jamming the key into the ignition, heart beating hard and fast in his chest. “Seatbelt,” he says quietly, glancing at her sideways as he backs the truck up and out of its parking spot just as guards burst out the front door of Eichen, running down the steps. 

When he speaks, she blinks and glances over at him, staring just for a second before automatically reaching for the seatbelt and pulling it over her chest. Once it’s in place, she turns to look back at him. Once again, not aware that people are coming after them.

“Hang on,” he says grimly, pressing his foot down on the gas peddle and peeling out of the parking lot, glancing briefly in the rearview to see the guards halting, but one on his phone making a call. Great. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. 

He doesn’t stop once the entire way to Beacon Hills Memorial. 

Whatever adrenaline she felt back when they were in Eichen is gone. Somewhere during the drive, she curls up on the passenger’s seat and keeps her eyes on him. The fact that he’s driving recklessly goes unnoticed. Her head is feeling heavy again. But she’s trying hard to stay awake. To keep reminding herself that this is real. That Stiles is there and that it’s _over_.

“Stay with me, okay? Don’t fall asleep, Lydia.” He doesn’t know if she should sleep after trepanation, and now he wishes he’d researched it more so he’d know exactly what to expect right now. 

She blinks her eyes open wider and takes a deep breath, trying her best to do as he asked. “Where are we going?” she asks quietly, unconsciously reaching for his hand.

He lets go of the wheel with his right hand and grips onto hers gently. “Hospital.” He winces a little, knowing the last thing she probably wants is to be around more doctors and medical personnel. “To see Melissa McCall.” 

This is definitely enough to wake her up. She sits up, shaking her head a little. “Stiles, no.” Adrenaline is rushing again, her heart is beating faster. “They’ll send me back.”

“No, they won’t. I promise, okay? I’m not gonna let them send you _anywhere_. We gotta get you checked out, Lydia. We can trust Melissa. She’s on our side.” Even if she hadn’t had a clue about this plan in the first place. He’s glad the woman’s good at dealing with surprise crises. 

She trusts Melissa. And she’s still nervous, now she’s actually scared again. But she doesn’t say anything. Her expression is tense and her eyes tear up. But she doesn’t know everything that’s happening. She doesn’t know for sure that _this_ is happening and it’s not one of the dreams. Or nightmares. And she can’t control any of them. 

If Stiles is real, she knows she can trust him. But he could be anyone, too. Even if she doesn’t think he is. She glances down at their hands and takes a deep breath. _That_ definitely feels real. “You won’t leave, right?” So he can be sure.

“I won’t leave. I’m not going anywhere.” He bites down on his lower lip. He pulls the truck into the emergency lane in front of the emergency room and throws it into park. “Come on.” 

Lydia looks over at the hospital for a moment, but doesn’t move. She doesn’t want to go in there. At all. But if she goes home, she knows what will happen. With a deep, shaky breath, she reaches for the door and opens it before slowly sliding out of the front seat.

Stiles moves around to the passenger side of the truck and reaches out for her hand, leading her into the emergency room and heading straight for the desk. The receptionist there looks up with a semi-bored expression but her eyes widen a little when she catches sight of the blood stains on Lydia’s gown. 

“I need you to page Melissa McCall,” Stiles tells her as calmly as he can manage. 

As she starts feeling herself getting more numb again, she tightens her fingers around Stiles’ hand. She saw a lot of what happened at Eichen. And even before that. But she just couldn’t control herself enough to move, to fight it. Even during those bursts where she did manage it, it was all instinct. And she’s afraid she’s going to slip back into that catatonic state that she was in and she won’t be able to do anything about it again.

He barely hears the woman as she makes the requested page, his attention focusing once more entirely on the strawberry blonde at his side. He links his fingers through hers, tugging her a little closer and sliding his free arm around her. “We won’t have to wait long,” he whispers. 

Lydia leans into him without hesitation. Her body heavy again. But she manages to keep her eyes on his face. “The chimeras are back,” she whispers back, her expression blank.

“I know,” he tells her quietly, holding onto her as she leans into him. There’s a lot she doesn’t know about either. About Liam going after Scott. About his dad. Parrish breaking out of the jail cell at the sheriff’s station. Scott dying. He and Malia’s breakup. But right now none of that matters as much as making sure she’s okay before he overloads her with information. 

Sighing softly, Lydia nods and lays her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Right now, she’s not even fully aware she’s at the hospital anymore. But she is very aware that Stiles is there with her. And she knows that’s comforting. 

“Stiles?” Melissa calls as she walks right up to them, her voice just a little higher than usual. She’s already on crisis mode. Especially when she realizes _who_ is there with him. She didn’t even recognize her at first. “ _Lydia_?”

“I’m not leaving her,” he tells Melissa immediately as he looks at her. His arms tighten around Lydia’s small frame just a little. “But she needs checked out.” He holds his breath, waiting for Melissa’s response.

“Come with me,” Melissa says almost instantly. She has learned better than to ask the kids what happened in front of other hospital staff. She places a hand over Lydia’s back and keeps her eyes on her as she leads them into one of the empty rooms.

He relaxes a little as soon as Melissa tells him to follow her. He keeps his arm around Lydia’s waist, and lets Ms. McCall lead them into an empty exam room. He swallows heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as he helps Lydia up and onto the exam table. “She was in Eichen. It’s where she’s been since she vanished.” He starts to pace the length of the room.

Lydia gets up on the table obediently and it’s only once she’s laying down that she looks up and sees Melissa. A small smile appears on her lips because Stiles was telling her the truth. Even if not much makes sense to her right now, she knows that much. 

“Eichen? Why? What happened?” Melissa asks, looking from Stiles back to Lydia, smiling just slightly back down at the girl. “Just stay with me, okay, Lydia?”

“Because of Theo,” he says shortly, chewing his thumbnail as he paces. “Her head.” His voice grows more quiet and he indicates the space behind her ear. “They --” His voice wavers and he rubs his hand over his face. “Trepanation.” 

Melissa stills, her face paling as she looks at Stiles for a moment, then back at Lydia, gently turning her head and brushing her hair away so she can look at it. “I’m gonna need to get a doctor for this, Stiles.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment, nodding. “I know.” He’s not surprised. “It’s gotta be someone you trust. Completely.” 

“is there something else I need to know about this?” As in, supernatural elements?

Stiles turns his head to look at her, falling silent for a moment, then nodding. “It’s connected to the banshee stuff,” he whispers. “And uh -- I think I killed a guy at Eichen.” 

Melissa just stares at him for a moment, then fully turns to face him. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine. Just -- help her.” He chews his lower lip.

“Stay here. Try and keep her awake. I’ll go get the doctor and when we get back, you’ll go see your dad. He’s awake.” And with that, she makes her way out of the room. One crisis at a time.

 

*****

By the time Lydia wakes up again, she feels-- _different_. At least, different than she has felt in a while. She’s more aware again. Still feeling heavy, but it’s like she can _think_ again. 

And the first thing she notices is that she’s _not_ at Eichen. The room is much brighter, the bed isn’t as uncomfortable, and there’s an actual tv on the wall. Also, her arms and legs are free. She can move around the bed. 

Squinting, she slowly pushes herself up on her elbows. And then she feels something off on the back of her ear. When she lifts her hand and finds the gauze the, her stomach drops. “It was real,” she whispers to herself quietly. Not yet aware of the visitor in the room with her.

Beside her bed, Stiles is slumped in a straight-backed chair, his head resting on the mattress. One of his hands is tucked under his face, the other dangling off the edge, both legs sprawled out in front of him. When she whispers, he jerks his head up, clearly startled. “Lydia?” 

She gasps when he moves and speaks up, he eyes widening as she turns to look down at him. She’s not entirely sure how she missed him, but her head does feel a little weird still. Probably from all the drugs they gave her. “Stiles? What-- are you doing here?” And it’s not so much an accusation as it is sincere confusion.

He rubs his hand over his eyes tiredly as he sits up a little straighter, groaning involuntarily as his neck protests. “You’re awake,” he says by way of an answer. He glances around, as if checking to make sure they were both still at the hospital where they’re supposed to be, and not someplace else less pleasant. When he sees that they’re still there and still safe, he turns his head to look directly at her so he can see her face. She’s still pale, but a little less so now. 

He rises to his feet. “I should get Melissa.” 

Lydia frowns as she watches him. And even more when he gets up and starts to leave. She reaches for his hand and tugs on it gently, her eyes on his face. “You brought me here.” And it’s still very hazy. But she’s starting to remember things. Things like Stiles at Eichen. Somehow breaking her out of it.

He stills when she catches his hand and turns back to look at her. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. He brushes his thumb over the back of her knuckles. “Do you remember?” Melissa had warned him she might not remember much from the past few days, and considering what Valack had done to her, he’s been trying to brace himself for the worst.

“Some of it,” she whispers quietly, looking down at their hands for a moment, even if her eyes aren’t really focused on them. “I remember you there. I remember a fight and then being in a car. But just-- flashes of it.” And she’s starting to remember more about being at Eichen, but she doesn’t want to bring that up yet. 

“Is everyone okay?” she asks a second later as she turns to look up at him again.

“Yeah.” He squeezes her fingers gently. “Everyone’s okay. They’re probably out in the waiting room, actually.” Including Scott, whom he hasn’t talked to much in days. “Are you in pain?” His gaze darts to her ear and then back to her eyes. “I should get Melissa.” 

 

“Not-- really in pain. Just, discomfort,” she says quietly, lifting her free hand to the gauze again. And she’s really feeling like _Stiles_ is uncomfortable. She looks at him again, pausing when she notices the blood on his shirt, over the shoulder, her eyes widening. “Are _you_ okay? Did you get hurt?”

“Easy,” he murmurs when her eyes go wide and the heart monitor she’s connected to spikes. “It’s not mine. I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” He hesitantly sits back down beside her, but doesn’t let go of her hand. 

Lydia takes a deep, calming breath as she looks over at the heart monitor. For a second, she wishes she could just rip off everything that is connected to her. But instead, she focuses on the fact that Stiles is sitting back down. And her heart rate does slow down to a normal rhythm again. She shifts, so she’s laying against the pillows again, but keeps her eyes on him. “Tell me what else happened?”

He watches her for a second, considering. “When we got you out of Eichen or...in general?” he asks uncertainly. Because there’s a lot of things that have happened that she doesn’t know about. And he’s not sure how much he does remember of what happened when he’d gotten her out of Eichen a few nights ago. 

“Let’s start with what happened when you got me out.” Because she has the feeling that everything else will take a while. She doesn’t even know how long she was there for. Just that if felt like an eternity. 

Stiles is silent for a moment, then rubs his hand over his face before he takes a deep breath and launches into the whole story: how they’d figured out where she was, the plan to get her out, the role Scott and Malia and Argent had played in her rescue, and him taking her to the hospital while the three of them had dealt with the Dread Doctors.

“So that’s pretty much it.” 

“So Mr. Argent is back.” She has no idea what that means. But she’s fairly sure he wouldn’t come back for no reason. Which means, either the Dread Doctors are gonna cause even more problems. Or-- Theo’s new pack is. “What about-- the chimeras that Theo brought back?

“We haven’t figured out much about that yet,” he admits, looking down at his hands. “Liam talked to Hayden but...she’s different. Almost like --” He hesitates, then shakes his head. “She’s just different.” 

“Almost like what, Stiles?” Because that doesn’t sound good at all.

“Like...she’s brainwashed? Like she’s not herself.” And he’s unfortunately familiar with that kind of experience, and he knows Lydia is too. 

She is. Far too familiar. Lydia unconsciously tightens her grip on his hand and shifts a little on the bed. “Do you think it’s just because of how she’s been brought back or-- do you think he’s controlling her?” 

He grimaces. “Both, probably. But if anyone can get through to her, it’s Liam.” It’s all the other chimeras he’s concerned with. The ones who don’t really have any connection to them. He shoves the thought of Donovan out of his head. He doesn’t want to think about how that’s going to be an issue again eventually. 

In more ways than one. 

“Right now, don’t worry about that, okay? You just focus on healing.” He offers her a faint, tiny smile. 

She gives him a look. Because he has to know better than to think she’s not gonna worry about it. But she is worried about this, too. “Did-- they say what this means? I mean, how much it’ll affect me?” Her brain. Her skills. Her intelligence. She doesn’t feel that different now but. It is a concern.

“The good news is, they haven’t found any signs of brain damage or trauma to the areas that affect thinking,” he tells her, ignoring the look she gives him. “The rest they don’t really...understand.” He meets her eyes. 

Lydia purses her lips together, then nods a little just as she remembers something else. “And Valack. Is he-- gone?” Because she remembers Stiles shooting him. She remembers running past the body on the floor. But he was still alive when they left, wasn’t he?

“Yeah. He’s gone.” He pauses. “Dead.” Stiles shrugs a little. “Mr. Argent took care of clean up.” He just has to tell his dad he killed someone. This time in a more permanent kind of way. 

With a deep breath, she sits up again and squeezes his hand, her eyes on his face. “I’m so sorry you had to do it, Stiles. I’m not sorry that you did. But-- that you had to.” She wouldn’t be sorry that the man who drilled a hole into her head is gone. She just can’t even imagine what this is doing to Stiles.

He shakes his head a little. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t feel bad about it.” And that’s the truth. “After what he did to you. He wasn’t going to let us out of there. I don’t feel bad that I killed him.” Even if Scott thinks he’s a terrible person for it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Regardless of him wanting him gone, too. It is a big deal. It should be. And she doesn’t want him to just shut it out.

“I’m really okay.” Stiles looks at her intently. “There wasn’t a choice.” He doesn’t have super powers. 

Lydia purses her lips together and nods slightly. Then takes a deep breath and considers him for a moment. “Thank you, Stiles. For coming to find me.” She knows why he had to go in by himself. Because of the mountain ash. But she also knows he knows just how terrifying Eichen is.

“I had tried to break out before. I managed to get out of the building but Valack stopped me. He-- I kept seeing Aiden’s face instead of his, for some reason. Some kind of illusion. I don’t think I’d have been able to get out without you.” Her mom certainly wasn’t going to pull her out. Not when she was the one who allowed her to be committed in the first place.

He smiles very faintly and nods. “I wasn’t gonna leave you in there, Lydia. None of us were.” He looks down at their hands for a long moment. “I think it might be a good idea if you come stay at my house for a few days after you’re out of here.” Because he’s kind of worried that if she’s not one hundred percent back to normal, her mom will stick her back into Eichen. 

At first, she smiles a little at him, but then her face falls as she looks back down at their hands. She always wondered how her mom would react when she found out -- because living in Beacon Hills, working at the school, it was only a matter of time. She knew it wasn’t going to be well, but she had hoped it’d help her have a more honest and open relationship with her. It didn’t work out like that so much. “Does she know? That I’m not there anymore?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if they would have called her under the circumstances, or…” His grip on her hand tightens a little. “Or if she still thinks you’re in there. I’m guessing it’s the latter.” And since Lydia is eighteen, they wouldn’t have to contact her for medical treatment. 

Lydia takes a deep breath and nods, smiling a little at Stiles. “It’s probably better if it is.” And it’s easier to think that than to think that her mom is so freaked out by what happened to her, that she didn’t bother coming in to see her. “Do you know when I can leave?”

“Couple more days, at least.” He stretches his legs out in front of him. “I really should get Melissa to come in here and check you over, Lydia.” His voice grows softer, laced with more concern. 

She takes a deep breath and nods a little. He’s tried to leave three times already, she won’t stop him anymore. “Okay,” she says quietly, smiling softly once more as she pulls her hand from his and lays back down against the pillows.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells her, standing up and moving to pull the sheet up over her a little better in case she’s cold. He gazes at her for a second, holding his breath, then heads for the door.  
***

After Stiles leaves the room and Melissa checks in on Lydia, there’s a soft knock at the door. “Hey.” Scott’s voice is quiet, hesitant. “Mind another visitor?” 

Lydia looks over at him and smiles a little, relief instantly appearing on her features. She knew he was okay because Stiles told her as much. But she knows that even in that state she was in, she _felt_ his death. “Not at all. Hey.” 

He steps farther into the room, hands shoved in his pockets. “How are you feeling?” There’s worry in his eyes, and he looks tired, like he hasn’t slept well in awhile. 

“Okay,” she says automatically. And it’s not a complete lie. She’s worried about the possible side effects of the trepanation. And she’s worried about how her mom’s reaction will be, but she’s still doing a lot better than she was before Stiles broke her out. “You?”

Scott moves closer to her bed, hesitantly reaching out and touching her arm. “I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” he whispers. 

“I didn’t notice, don’t feel bad,” she says quietly. She was out of it for most of the time. “How long was I there, anyway?”

“Four days,” he admits, hesitantly sitting on the edge of her bed. “Are you in any pain?” 

Lydia smiles a little and takes his hand. She knows why he’s asking. “Whatever drugs they gave me are still working. It’s okay, Scott.” At least, on her part. He doesn’t look great, and she’s not sure she’s seen Scott like this since... since they lost Allison. “What’s wrong, Scott?”

It’s not. Not really, but he just nods a little and looks down for a moment. “I should never have trusted Theo and none of this ever would have happened.” 

“You want to trust people, to help everyone. It’s not a bad thing, Scott.” And if the warnings she got at the library were right, she’s not the only one he hurt. “He came after you too, didn’t he? At the library?”

Scott doesn’t look up, just nods a little. “And the sheriff. And Stiles. Hayden died because of him. A lot of people died because of him.” People that might never be the same people they were before. 

“What happened to Stiles and the Sheriff?” she asks quietly. She knew about Hayden, considering she saw her there on the Nemeton. And Stiles did tell her about her being back already. But he never mentioned anything about him or his dad.

“He attacked his dad,” he tells her quietly. “He’s still here, down the hall. It’s...where Stiles is now, I think. He’s been going between you guys’ rooms since we got you out.” He falls silent for a moment. “And he sent Donovan after Stiles a few weeks ago.” 

“Oh, I had no idea about the Sheriff,” she says quietly, glancing at the door and wishing Stiles had said something. She feels awful for just talking to him all that time and not trying to figure out what else was bothering him. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. They think so anyway. But it was -- it was close. He clawed the sheriff’s neck.” Scott swallows hard, guilt obvious in his voice, in the slump of his shoulders. “Stiles has been -- kind of a mess with both of you hurt.” 

“Poor Stiles,” she says quietly, shaking her head as she looks down for a moment, then back at Scott. “What about you? I mean, I got the warning, Scott. And I felt it happen.” 

He presses his lips together. “He convinced Liam that the only way to save Hayden was if I gave her the bite. And when I wouldn’t, Liam attacked me.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice, but whether it’s aimed at Theo, Liam, or himself, is unclear. “Theo just finished the job. He wanted me out of the way so he could steal the pack.” 

“He told me about that part of the plan, but what happened?” she asks quietly, sitting up. “I mean, you’re here.” Whether or not he’s okay, that’s another story.

“My mom brought me back. I don’t know how,” Scott tells her quietly. “I was dead for fifteen minutes.” 

Her eyes widen at that and she just stares at him for a moment, her heart beating faster, making the machine beep louder. Without warning, she leans forward and wraps her arms around Scott, hugging him tightly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He hugs her back, but less tightly because he doesn’t want to hurt her. He shuts his eyes, resting a hand on the back of her head. A couple years ago he wouldn’t have believed that Lydia Martin would become one of his closest, most treasured friends, but she has. “Me too,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.” 

*****

It takes a couple more days of tests and observation before she’s discharged from the hospital. The clothes she had on at Eichen were disgusting, so Stiles brought her some to wear. Some of _his_ , since she asked him not to break into her house to grab clothes for her. So as she makes her way out of her room, she’s wearing gray sweatpants that she had to roll up around her waist about four times to stop them from falling off. A t-shirt that is longer than most of the dresses she owns, and a really comfortable but just as big flannel shirt that she wrapped around herself. Along with hospital slippers that Melissa grabbed for her, because wearing Stiles’ shoes would definitely mean tripping on her own two feet. 

She knows Stiles is coming to pick her up, but instead of waiting for him in the room, she makes her way down the hall, into the room where Melissa told her the Sheriff is staying. Lydia knocks on the door and waits, just in case he’s not alone.

“Come in.” His voice is scratchy, and kind of tired. He glances toward the door, expecting it to be Scott or Melissa since Stiles definitely wouldn’t be knocking. He loves his son, but Stiles isn’t known for his manners. When he sees who’s at the door, a soft smile touches his face. “Lydia. Hi.” 

“Hi.” She greets him with a smile as she steps into the room. He looks paler and weaker than she’s ever seen him before. She can’t imagine how scary it must be for Stiles to see his dad like this. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than a few days ago,” he tells her, studying her with the same scrutinizing gaze that she’s probably seen on Stiles’s face when he’s trying to figure something out. “How are _you?_ ” Stiles hasn’t really given him details, just that Theo had attacked and hurt Lydia, too.

“I’m okay. They’re letting me leave today,” she says carefully as she makes her way further into the room, stopping to stand by his bed. She has no idea if Stiles told him he invited her to stay at his place but she doesn’t feel right just going there without him being okay with it.

“Good. I’m glad one of us is getting out of this place at least.” He smiles faintly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m pretty sure Stiles has given the doctors strict instructions _not_ to let me out of here yet.” 

“How much longer do you think you’ll have to stay?” she asks, smiling back at him. She knows how frustrating it can be to stay at the hospital. It’s the second time she’s stayed here in the past few weeks, but she does have to agree that she Sheriff looks pretty fragile right now.

“Ah, between my son and Melissa McCall? Another week at least.” He sighs. “It’s a conspiracy. I’m surprised _you’re_ escaping already.” 

Lydia grins a little and shakes her head. “Maybe I just know how to play the system. You know, I’ve been eating right and everything.” Yes, Stiles has mentioned before that his dad demands fries and burgers when he tries to get him to eat vegetables and salads.

He narrows his eyes a little at her, squinting. “Did Stiles put you up to saying that?” 

She shakes her head in response, still smiling. “He doesn’t even know I was coming by to see you. He-- hm, he’s coming to pick me up, I think.”

The sheriff doesn’t appear surprised by that information. Especially considering she’s wearing his son’s clothes. “Do me a favor, would you? Make him take a nap when you guys get to the house. A long nap. Like -- 12 hours at least.” 

She’s not entirely sure why her heart skips a beat when he says that, but she nods a little. “I’ll see what I can do.” And Stiles obviously mentioned her staying there to him, so that’s taken care of, she supposes. “Thanks for letting me stay over.” 

“You’re always welcome, Lydia,” he says sincerely. “You don’t have to have an invitation. For the record.” 

“Thanks again,” she says sincerely, smiling back at him. She’s not planning on staying longer than a couple of days, but she does need some time to figure out what’s going on with her mom. “Do you need anything?”

“Well, if you wanted to bring me a burger and fries, or a piece of pizza, I definitely wouldn’t say no.” He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with mischief because he’s already seen Stiles slip into the room and linger in the doorway. 

“Cute, but no dice, Pops,” Stiles informs him, folding his arms across his chest. 

Lydia is about to say something when she pauses and looks over her shoulder, smiling at Stiles for a moment. “I’d rather not have Stiles hate me,” she says as she turns back to the Sheriff.

The sheriff snorts, then grimaces and presses a hand against his neck momentarily. “I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening in this lifetime.” 

Stiles narrows his eyes at that and shakes his head, looking exasperated. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

Lydia just purses her lips together in response to the Sheriff and looks over at Stiles, not sure what to say to either of them, so she figures it’s better not to say anything.

“Says the kettle,” the sheriff responds meaningfully. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He holds his hand up. “I’ll sleep. Later. Promise.” He glances at Lydia and offers her a tiny smile. “You ready to get outta here?” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promises the Sheriff before turning to Stiles again, smiling a little as she nods. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“I’ll be back after awhile,” Stiles tells his dad, arching his eyebrows. “And just so you know, I’ve talked to every medical professional on the floor and they know you shouldn’t be ordering junk for dinner.” He winks at him and then reaches out, resting his hand gently at the small of Lydia’s back. 

“Sadist,” the sheriff mumbles with a sigh. 

She throws one more smile at the sheriff before letting Stiles lead her out of the room and down the hall. “Did Melissa tell you where to find me?”

“Yeah. I stopped by your room first and found it empty.” And promptly panicked, but he’s not going to tell her that part. “She said you mentioned wanting to check on him.” He glances at her sideways as they walk to the elevator. “Thanks.” His voice grows a little more quiet. 

“For what?” she asks quietly as they step inside the elevator and she turns to face him. As far as she knows, she’s the one who should be thanking him. For a lot of things.

“Caring.” He smiles faintly and pressed the button to take them down to the lobby. 

Her expression softens and she smiles back at him, nodding a little. “In that case, thank you, too.” Even if they bicker sometimes -- a lot of the time -- she would never question whether or not Stiles cares about her.

He meets her eyes, then hesitates before reaching out and linking his pinky with hers, nodding in return. “You want to grab something to eat on the way back, or are you good for awhile? I can fix something later if you’re not hungry. I did a grocery store run before I came by the hospital.” 

She glances down and wraps her finger around his in return then shakes her head. “I’m okay for a while. You don’t need to worry about cooking anything. And your dad made me promise I’d make sure you get some rest when we get there.” 

“Of course he did,” Stiles says wryly. His dad had nearly bled out on a warehouse floor, Scott had died, Hayden was some kind of zombie chimera, Liam was avoiding all of them, Kira was still AWOL, and Lydia had been tortured in Eichen. Why wouldn’t his dad be worried about him? Nothing had even happened to him. He exhales as the elevator doors slide open. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at the hospital, Stiles.” Pretty much every time she woke up, he was there. Sometimes napping, yes, but on that very uncomfortable chair. “You need to rest.” 

“Yeah.” He’d only been home twice since they’d brought his dad in. He hates hospitals. “There just hasn’t been a lot of time for sleep, you know? Too much going on.” 

“I know. But you can take a break.” As they step out of the elevator, she gets a little self-conscious and pulls her hand from his. Mostly because Stiles has a girlfriend and she doesn’t want people gossiping about anything. “I’ll probably need some rest when we get back, anyway.”

Stiles lets go of her hand when she lets go of his and he slides it into his hoodie pockets, trying to ignore the way it stings to have her pull away. “Okay.” He’d already changed his bedsheets so she could sleep on clean sheets, and made himself a bed of blankets on the couch downstairs for himself. He leads her out of the hospital and toward the parking lot where the truck is parked. 

She follows him to the car in silence, frowning a little when she sees the truck. It’s weird, and she remembers he was driving this the night he rescued her, too. So she waits until he climbs into the driver’s side. “What happened to your jeep?”

He grimaces, sighing softly as he starts the ignition. “It’s a lost cause.” 

“What do you mean? That thing has survived a lot, Stiles.” From the front of it being clawed off by Peter, to a couple of car accidents and having Parrish turn it upside down. She’s not sure there’s anything that could break it. 

Stiles is silent for a moment, and he seems to struggle for words. “Yeah, but it can only withstand so much crap, you know? It’s not...unbreakable.” Nothing is unbreakable. He knows that now.

“But you care about it so much, you can’t just give up on it.” And it’s weird that he seems to be willing to. He even talked about driving that thing to college as part of his-- vision.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel a little and he nods, throat tightening involuntarily. “I’m not sure if…” He bites his lower lip and glances at her sideways. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just not as stable as I always assumed that it was. I mean, it’s old and it has all these -- broken pieces that I don’t know how to fix. Any sane person would call it quits at this point. I mean it’s literally only held together by duct tape right now.” 

She can tell he’s upset. And she feels like this is more than just about the jeep. With a deep breath, Lydia reaches over and places her hand on his arm, keeping her eyes on his face. “And since when are you considered a sane person?” she asks quietly, a hint of teasing before she goes on. “What about your vision?”

A smile quirks his lips momentarily and he turns his head to look at her. “Maybe it was all just...wishful thinking,” he says quietly.

“What else happened, Stiles?” Because something obviously did. And it’s obviously hitting him pretty hard.  
He opens his mouth to respond, to tell her that nothing else happened, that everything was fine, he’s just stressed from everything. He closes it again and falls silent. He’s sick of lying to people, especially people that he loves. “Scott found out that...I killed Donovan.” His voice is hushed.

“What?” she asks, confused both by what he’s saying he did and Scott’s possible reaction to it. She remembers Scott telling her something about Donovan going after Stiles, but she’s not entirely sure what’s happening. 

Stiles exhales. “Donovan attacked me in the school parking lot the night after you got hurt the first time. I was there researching, and I fell asleep and when I woke up everyone was gone and it was dark out. The jeep wouldn’t start -- again.” He doesn’t look at her as he pulls the truck into the driveway at his house a moment later. “He just came out of nowhere and before I knew it --” He shakes his head, voice wavering a little. 

“Your shoulder,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “Is this why you were hurt the day we went to Eichen?” Lydia takes a deep breath and reaches for the door. “Let’s get you inside, okay? You can tell me what happened.”

He simply nods, pulling the keys from the ignition and rubbing a hand over his neck tiredly as he locks the truck doors and heads for the porch. He unlocks the house and holds the door open for her and lets her inside before following her in and closing and locking up again. “You want something to drink?” he asks as he drops the keys on the table and heads for the fridge. 

“Just water,” she says quietly, watching him worriedly as she waits for him. She wants his full attention when he’s telling her what is really bothering him.

He returns to her side a moment later, carrying two bottles of water and handing one of them over to her. “Come on. Let’s get you settled upstairs.” 

“Thank you,” she says quietly as she starts her way upstairs with him, even as she catches a glimpse of the bed made up on the couch in the living room. If he thinks she’s taking his bed, he’s very wrong. But that’s an argument for later.

Stiles follows her up the steps and into his room, where the blankets are pulled back neatly. “Are you okay sleeping in that? I have other stuff. I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want me to break into your house,” he jokes. 

“It’s really comfortable.” And comforting. And she doesn’t allow herself to think about the fact that it smells like him. Instead, she takes a deep breath and steps in front of him. “Now talk to me, Stiles. What else happened? Donovan followed you to the school and he hurt your shoulder.” 

“Technically he did that before he followed me into the school,” he says glumly, looking at her for a moment before he sits down in the desk chair. “I hit him with a wrench and took off. I ended up climbing up the scaffolding to try and get away from him, but he just followed me up that, too. I grabbed one of the pins holding things together and pulled it out.” 

He paused, looks down at his hands. “He fell. There was -- a metal rod that -- it just went right through him.” 

“So he _fell_. You were getting away from him. You didn’t _kill_ him.” Not in the way he had killed Valack. But they’ve been over that before.

“Yeah. Well, Scott doesn’t really see it that way.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Theo was there. He saw everything. I didn’t see him. But uh -- he told Scott what I did. And Scott’s pissed.” 

“Scott knows now that Theo can’t be trusted, Stiles. And last time I saw him, he looked about as heartbroken and you do right now,” she says quietly, reaching down and taking his hand in both of hers. “I think you two need to talk.”

He swallows heavily, guilt making his shoulders hunch. “I said terrible things to him, Lydia. Really terrible things.” 

“What did you say?” she asks quietly, sitting down on the edge of his bed but leaning forward so she can keep her hand wrapped around his.

Stiles can’t look at her. “I blamed him for not getting to my dad in time. For losing track of where you were. For trusting Theo after I warned him not to. I blamed him for all of it.” He sniffs. “I told him we all couldn’t be true alphas and that some of us were just human.” He’d implied that Scott was _less_ than human. 

“You were scared, you were angry, Stiles.” She tightens her grip on his hand as she reaches to cup his face with her free one. Because she heard him sniffing and the idea of Stiles crying breaks her heart. “Look at me. This is why you need to talk to him about things. Now that he knows the truth about Theo, he’ll understand.”

He rubs his shirt sleeve over his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath as he reluctantly looks up at her, eyes full of unshed tears. “I should have told him. I shouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret.” 

“Come here,” she says quietly, tugging on his hand. She knows he has to be exhausted from the lack of sleep and the guilt and tension he’s been feeling all along. If he needs to cry it out, she wants him to be able to while she can comfort him as much as possible.

He lets her tug him forward and onto the bed so he’s sitting next to her. “I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he whispers. “It’s never been this bad before.” Not even after the nogitsune. Not with Scott. 

“It wasn’t _you_ , Stiles. It was Theo. He manipulated all of us, _especially_ Scott.” She wraps her arm around his back as soon as he’s sitting next to her, pulling him against her side. “I talked to Scott. He told me himself he should never have trusted Theo. You can work this out, I promise. This is on _him_ , on Theo. Not on you.”

Stiles leans into her, shutting his eyes and resting his head against hers. Instead of trusting his own instincts, he’d let Theo manipulate him, too. Let Theo turn him and Scott against each other. He should have known better. He _did_ know better. He’d just forgotten it for awhile. “I wanna kill him.” His voice is quiet, but serious. “I want him dead, Lydia.” 

His words make something cold run through her. Like a chill, but much deeper. It worries her, but she won’t let him go that far. He already blames himself for killing Donovan. He’s aware of what he did to Valack. She knows that no matter what happens, she can’t let Stiles go after Theo. “He can’t hurt us anymore. We know the truth now, we’ll prepare ourselves for him and we’ll stick _together_. That’s what we need to do, Stiles. That’s all it’ll take.” 

He wishes he believed that. Wishes that was all it was going to take. “He killed Scott. He almost killed you. And my dad.” Theo had gone after the three most important people in his life. And Stiles wanted him to pay for that. And more than that -- Stiles wanted to be the one to _make_ him pay for it. “What if next time he succeeds? What if we just -- let him get by with what he’s done and next time he kills one of you?” 

“We won’t let that happen,” she tells him firmly as she raises her head to look at him. “Mr. Argent is back now, he can help us. We’ll figure out what the Dread Doctors want, we’ll get everyone back to normal and we’ll stop Theo. Okay?”

Stiles meets her eyes and holds her gaze for a long moment before he exhales and nods. Then he hesitantly lifts his hand to her face, tilting it gently so he can look at the wound behind her ear. “Do you feel different?” he whispers.

She keeps her eyes on his face until he tilts her head, unconsciously leaning into his touch. “No, not really,” she whispers back as she lifts a hand to cup his arm. Mostly, she’s worried about what will happen next time she gets a warning. What it’ll do to her.

Involuntarily, his gaze drops to her mouth and he swallows heavily, breath catching. He feels her fingers brush against his arm and his brush gently over her cheek. “That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah,” she answers quietly, not entirely sure what the question was when she notices him looking down at her lips, then unconsciously licks them. Her mouth suddenly feels oddly dry. And she’s glad she’s not hooked up to a heart monitor because her heart is beating faster.

His eyes darken when her tongue darts out and wets her lips and a soft, almost inaudible groan escapes him. His thumb brushes over her lower lip and without really thinking about it, he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth; it’s soft, sweet, just barely there. But it’s there. 

She turns her head instinctively when she feels his lips so close to where she wants them, but not quite there. Just as her lips brush against his, though, she stops, her stomach dropping as she realizes what she’s doing. What _he_ started. “Stiles.” Lydia pulls away from him completely a second later, and then she’s on her feet, her eyes wide.

He blinks a couple of times when she pulls away so suddenly and his stomach drops. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -- I shouldn’t have done that.” Shit, he’s an idiot.

Lydia shakes her head a little, her gaze going back to his lips for a moment before she shakes herself out of it. “It’s okay. You’re just tired and-- there’s a lot going on and, hm you have Malia. And-- it’s not a big deal.” Except for the fact that she can still feel the ghost of his lips against hers and she really wants to kiss him for real right now. 

He is tired, but the rest of it she’s pretty far off base on. He looks up at her, expression troubled, afraid he’s just wrecked the other closest relationship he has with his impulsivity. But something else settles on him -- a feeling that he can’t quite place. “No, it’s -- it is a big deal. It’s a really big deal.” 

“Stiles, it’s okay,” she says quietly, not entirely sure what to make of the expression on his face. They had kissed before, and they managed to get over that. No matter how much she actually thought about it, they can get over this, too. 

She doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t. He’s never really told her. Sure, once, when they’d been sophomores, at a dance long ago and far away, but they’d barely even known each other then. Things are different now. _Everything_ is different now.

Stiles rises to his feet. “I’m tired of being afraid,” he tells her quietly. 

“What are you talking about?” She’s sincerely confused now, because she’s not sure he means anything about what almost happened now. Or if he’s talking about Theo again. And going after him. So when he stands, she doesn’t take a step back, just keeps her eyes on his face, fully prepared to hold him back if he tries to leave.

He takes a deep breath and holds her gaze for a moment, moving so he’s standing in front of her. Close but not invading her personal space, either. “Maybe it’s just been too much. The last couple years. All the close calls. All the times that --” He hesitates “All the times that one of us almost died. Maybe it’s just wore me down, I don’t know.” 

He looks away for a second, gathering his nerve before looking back at her. “I do know that I’m tired of being afraid all the time. I’m tired of watching you almost die. It’s too much, Lydia. I can’t --” Stiles rubs a hand over his face rapidly, shaking his head. “I can’t keep almost losing you and I can’t keep not getting there in time to stop you from getting hurt and watching you bleed out on the lacrosse field or the floor. That night at the sheriff’s station? I was useless. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I didn’t even hear Scott calling me. I couldn’t hear anything because I was too busy freaking the hell out.” 

His words are tumbling out more rapidly now and he’s started pacing the floor in front of her. 

“Okay, and I thought -- that’s it. This is it. I thought you were gonna just -- die right there in front of me, like my mom, and I couldn’t do anything to help or to stop it and you didn’t even _know_. You don’t even _know_ and I know that’s my fault and I know I’ve been stupid and hell, I even know it’s all just on me because it’s never been like that with us and that’s okay, but I have to say it because I’m afraid that I’m not going to have the chance again and I can’t not say it after everything.” 

Stiles stops pacing and turns to look at her, expression intense. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I’m not expecting you to say it back because I know it’s not the same thing on your side of things and that’s okay. But I had to say it for my own sanity because -- that thing I said to you all those months ago -- that if you died I’d go out of my freaking mind -- that’s still true. It’s more true now than it was then. It’s --” He licks his lips, and his eyes plead with her to understand and not be upset with him. 

“I love you. It’s always been you. It’s never changed, just...grown. And I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you and after I’m done you can pretend this conversation never happened, but I just -- I needed you to know that no matter what -- kanimas or alpha packs or nogitsunes or chimeras and Dread Doctors and Theo Raeken, _I_ love you. And your life -- I need you to be okay, Lydia. I need you to live.” 

When he starts talking, she had no idea where he’s going with it, she almost stops him a couple of times because she can see how overwhelmed and anxious he is about this, but she figures it’s better to let him let it out there. So she just stands there and listens, paying close attention to his every word like she always does. So she can help him when he’s done with his rant and focus on the real problem.

But he goes on and she’s the one who’s overwhelmed all of the sudden. Out of everything, she’s certainly _not_ expecting this. And of course she knew, back in the day, that Stiles had a crush on her. But he wasn’t Stiles back then. He was some guy from her class who chased her best friend’s boyfriend around. 

He wasn’t one of her best friends. He wasn’t the person who knows her better in the entire world. He is now. And of course she loves him. She trusts him with her life. And the idea of losing him-- she’s fairly sure she’d lose her mind for real if that happened, too.

Right now though, she can’t say any of those things. She just stares at him, her eyes wide and tearful, her mouth hanging open slightly. And once he finishes, all she can do is stand there, looking at him, processing all of what he just threw at her. 

It takes her a couple of seconds, a time she spends trying to vocalize what she wants to say back to him. But instead, she just takes a step forward and cups the back of his neck as she tiptoes and presses her lips to his. There’s nothing hesitant or soft about it this time. She kisses him hard and deeply as she tries to convey everything she can’t say through that kiss.

It isn’t the reaction he’d been anticipating, as is evidenced by the fact that he stumbles backwards when she moves forward and kisses him so suddenly. One hand settles at her waist and the other lifts to rest against her cheek as he returns the kiss with the same amount of urgency that she’s kissing _him_ with, and for a moment he thinks he’s actually hallucinating. 

It’s nothing like the kiss they’d shared months ago on the floor of the boy’s locker room when he’d been having a panic attack. That was unexpected, too, but more gentle, tentative, and this is the opposite. There’s no hesitancy and there’s no panic. Just surprise and intensity. 

After a long moment, the kiss ends and Stiles lets out a shuddering breath, eyes dilated as he stares at her, breathless and heart pounding in his chest. 

Her heart is beating fast against her chest, but she feels a weird sense of calmness as she looks back at him. Her eyes are also dilated, her breathing uneven, but she holds his gaze as she pulls her hand from his neck to cup his face. “Don’t you dare think I need you any less,” she whispers quietly, her voice shaking with emotion.

“I love you, too. I trust you more than anyone else I know. And I _need_ you,” she says as her eyes tear up. She knows she means every word. And maybe it’s wrong for her to tell him all those things now, but if he’s ready to tell her how he feels, she can’t let him think she doesn’t feel the same way like he seems to. “I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, Stiles. Of nearly losing you again.” 

He’s pretty sure that his heart stops when she tells him she loves him, and he leans into her touch for a moment before he shifts and wraps his arms around her, gathering her in a hug and pulling her close so there’s no space between them. He lets out a shuddering breath and buries his face against her hair. He shuts his eyes, just focusing on the feel of her in his arms, the familiar smell of her shampoo. “I need you, too,” he whispers. He’s pretty sure he can’t do this without her. He doesn’t _want_ to. He drops a kiss against her shoulder before lifting his head to look at her again, searching her eyes. 

Lydia wraps her arms around his neck, tiptoeing once again so she’s as pressed up against him as she can be. Even as he pulls away to look at her, she keeps her arms wrapped around him, holding him to her. She can feel his heartbeat against her chest, or maybe it’s her, or both. But her heart is still beating fast as she holds his gaze again. “I’m right here.” 

He nods slightly, then dips his head and kisses her again, more softly this time. Slowly but not hesitantly. He traces his fingertips over the back of her right shoulder, wanting to slide his hand up to cup the back of her neck. But he knows Theo stuck his claws in there and he doesn’t want to cause her any pain, so he keeps it where it is. “This is...not at all how I kinda imagined you’d react,” he admits a moment later. 

“What did you think I was gonna do?” she asks quietly, her face softening as she looks at him, her fingers running through his hair as she searches his eyes. But she already knows he had no idea about how she felt. About how jealous she was every time she saw him with-- she knows she needs to ask him about her, even if that’s the last thing she wants to bring up now. She’ll give them some time first, because he has made his intentions pretty clear, and she believes every word he said.

A soft laugh escapes him and he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t even sure I’d tell you, I just -- I had to. After everything, I had to. I guess maybe I thought you’d tell me you cared about me and you didn’t want to do anything that might ruin what we already have.” He leans his forehead against hers.

She can’t help but smile when he laughs. Just the way his face looks, and the way he’s looking at her. It makes her chest feel warm. Even with everything that’s happening, even with all the things that can still go wrong, she feels lighter than she has in a long time. “And maybe that’s a real concern we should have. Something we should talk about. But-- I’m glad you told me. And I’m glad you know the truth now, too. Because you’re right, I’m tired of being afraid, too.” 

“Yeah. We should definitely talk about it. All of it.” He exhales. “But right now you should probably rest first.” He pauses. “ _We_ should probably rest first.” He feels like he actually can, even if it’s not for very long. His lips are still quirked up in a smile. 

“We,” she agrees quietly, smiling a little back at him before she leans in again and presses a soft kiss to his lips once more. “And you know you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you sleep on the couch, right?”

Stiles’s eyes widen just a little. “Oh. I mean, this was -- I mean -- I wasn’t really anticipating this and I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable with me staying here so I just went ahead and set up the couch because I wanted to make sure you were comfortable since you’re the one who’s been in the hospital--” 

She cuts him off by pressing another kiss to his lips. And this could seriously become an useful tool with Stiles. But she just smiles softly at him. “I’d have been comfortable with you being here regardless. As long as you’re comfortable with it, we can share.”

“Yes. I’m -- yes, that’s definitely something I’m fine with. More than fine with actually.” He hadn’t really been wanting to leave her side at this point anyway -- and not just because of this development. “I changed the sheets. When I’m sick I like having clean sheets. And okay, I know you aren’t _sick_ , but you were hurt pretty badly and it’s kinda similar, right?” 

“Stiles.” Lydia cocks her head a little as she cups his face in both of her hands, holding his gaze. He hasn’t babbled like this around her in so long. It’s adorable, but unusual. And even if it’s just excitement, she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way. “Take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous?”

“Because -- you’ve never been in my bed before.” He winces at how that sounds. “You know what I mean.” At least he hopes she knows what he means. 

She knows what he means. But she’s not willing to make it so easy on him. “Technically, I have. I just never fell asleep on it before. Almost, but not quite.” Unless, of course, he has other things in mind but-- there’s a lot they need to clear up before that.

“Okay but sitting on it is a lot different than laying in it -- with _me_ ,” he points out, even as his cheeks flush a little. “That’s definitely new and kind of a big thing.” 

“You’re right,” she gives him, smiling as she brushes her thumbs over his cheeks gently. He’s definitely blushing. And although she doesn’t want him to be nervous, she also doesn’t want to minimize the fact that yes, this is a big deal. And a big change for them. “But I think it’ll be okay, don’t you?” 

He relaxes a little when she strokes his cheeks. “Yeah.” A soft smile touches his mouth. “Yeah, I think it will.” 

“C’mon, I promised your dad you’d rest,” she says quietly, kissing his cheek softly before pulling away and taking his hand as she starts around his bed so they can both lay down. 

Stiles smiles at that and lets her lead him to the bed, waiting for her to climb in before he follows, setting his cell phone on the nightstand. He lays down beside her, hesitantly scooting closer to her and draping an arm around her waist. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, lifting a hand to his arm as she shifts a little closer to him. She smiles a little then glances over at his bedroom door. It’s open, which, considering they’re alone, she’s sure it’s fine but she knows Malia has a habit of just-- making her way into his room and she can’t help but tense.

As much as she doesn’t wanna have this conversation right now. As much as she doesn’t like Malia. She doesn’t deserve to see this, either. Stiles needs to talk to her and do things the right way. 

“Stiles...” she breathes, looking over at him again.

“Yeah?” He opens his eyes to look at her, but they’re already heavy with sleep. 

“What about Malia?” she asks quietly, holding his gaze. She can tell he’s extremely tired but she won’t be able to sleep wondering if the other girl is just gonna show up here.

“It was never gonna work,” he admits after a moment, not looking away from her. “We broke up a few days ago.” The morning after he and Scott had basically broken off their friendship. 

“You did?” She doesn’t mean to smile, but she does anyway as she relaxes a little. “I should have known you wouldn’t be like that. That’s why I pulled away when you first kissed me.”

 _”Oh._ ” He winces. “Right, I just -- I should’ve mentioned that beforehand probably. It’s one of those impulsivity things, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” she tells him sincerely, smiling a little more. “I’m really glad that won’t be an issue. That we’re not hurting anyone,” she whispers, leaning closer to him and pressing her forehead against his.

“Me too.” He lifts his hand up to stroke her hair, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

Lydia smiles a little more as she sighs softly and closes her eyes, wrapping an arm around him and shifting even closer. “Rest.” 

“You too,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, too, and letting his hand remain resting in her hair as he falls asleep.

***

A few days later finds Stiles outside in the driveway, his beloved jeep parked there once more, hood popped open as he studies the insides and then looks at the Car Repair for Dummies book propped up on one corner of it. He reaches for a screwdriver, chewing his lower lip as he reads, leaning on the vehicle as he concentrates.

He hears the front door of the house open and glances over his shoulder in time to see Lydia step outside and onto the porch. He squints against the sunlight but offers her a tiny smile. “You were right.” 

“My favorite words,” she says, teasing him as she makes her way down the front stairs and holds a bottle of water out toward him. She had gone to take a shower and when she came out and didn’t find him anywhere, she looked outside his bedroom window and saw him out working on the jeep. So she uses her phone -- which she rescued from her house while her mom was out -- for a second, changes and goes down to check on him. 

“What am I right about this time?”

He watches her as she descends the porch steps, soft smile on his mouth. “The jeep.” He gestures to it and then looks back at her once more. “I’m not ready to give up on it yet.” He straightens up, setting the screwdriver down and holding a hand out toward her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she says quietly, sliding her hand into his as she steps closer to him. “The jeep _is_ still part of the vision, right?” And she’s comfortable enough with bringing that up now, because things between them have been really good in the past few days. She’s still afraid of how her mom will react to her being out of Eichen. Of how her powers will be affected by the trepanation, of Theo’s new pack. But Stiles makes her happy. Really happy. Even with everything else that’s still happening, still up in the air, she knows that as long as they stick together, they’ll be okay.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He takes a deep breath and leans against the jeep as he tugs her closer, resting his other hand on her waist. “I never didn’t want it to be. I just...wasn’t sure it was still realistic.” He meets her eyes and holds her gaze.

Lydia carefully sets the bottle of water over the jeep then wraps her arms around him, cocking her head as she leans against him and holds his gaze, too. “And now you think it might be again?”

He considers that for a moment, searching her eyes. “I guess a lot of things seem possible in ways they never seemed possible before,” he tells her.

She leans in and presses her lips to his softly for a moment. “Maybe they were always possible, you just had to make that final, extra effort to make them happen,” she tells him quietly, brushing her fingers over his hair.

Stiles’s lips quirk upwards. “Duly noted,” he assures her, squeezing her hand gently, then leaning in and kissing her this time. 

She’s already smiling against his lips, but when she hears a motorcycle pulling up to the driveway, she smiles a little more. Lydia presses her lips to him a little harder for a second before pulling away and looking up at him, keeping her eyes on his face after she steals a quick glance at the new arrival to make sure it is the person she invited over.

Stiles tenses a little, and he doesn’t even have to turn around to know who’s there. He narrows his eyes at Lydia, cocking his head. “Did you call Scott?” 

“Texted, technically,” she says with a little shrug and a smile. “You two need to talk, Stiles. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

He draws in a breath and holds it as he glances over his shoulder to where Scott is taking off his helmet and looking as nervous as Stiles ever remembers seeing him. He bites his lower lip and then turns his head to look back at her again. “Yeah. I know.” He lifts a hand to her cheek, then kisses her forehead before reluctantly letting go of her.

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping away from him. As Scott walks up, she pauses only to give him a hug, but says nothing else to either of them before making her way back toward the house. She can set them up and make them talk to each other, but she knows they’ll need to figure out the rest on their own.

“Hey, Lydia,” Stiles suddenly calls out, eyes on her as she goes back toward the house.

“Yeah?” she says, pausing and turning to look at him again. 

His expression is full of warmth as he gazes at her. “Thanks,” he says quietly, offering her a faint smile.

Seeing that look on his face definitely helps her relax. She nods slightly, holding his gaze as she smiles back at him just as warmly. “Anytime,” she answers quietly, smiling over at Scott, too. Then focusing on Stiles one more time before making her way inside.

Stiles watches as she disappears into the house and then he takes a deep breath before turning to look at the boy who’s been his best friend his entire life. He meets his eyes and for the first time in what feels like weeks, he smiles at him. It’s faint, but it’s there. 

And when Scott returns the hesitant smile, he knows that Lydia was right again this time too.


End file.
